


Little Old Man With A Newspaper

by wocket



Category: Kroll Show (TV), Oh Hello - Kroll & Mulaney
Genre: Domestic Violence, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 09:53:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17506382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wocket/pseuds/wocket
Summary: George St Geegland makes Gil Faizon pay for a mistake.





	Little Old Man With A Newspaper

It had been three days, six hours, and eleven minutes since Gil Faizon had broken George St Geegland’s most expensive Hummel. George had been giving Gil the silent treatment ever since then, brushing him off with the cold shoulder every chance he got. 

This particular evening, three days, six hours, and _twelve_ minutes after the incident, George is staring at Gil over the top of his book from his spot in the armchair. His eyes are sharp and judgmental. Gil softens under his gaze.

“Little Old Man With A Newspaper,” George exclaims. He puts his book down. Gil thinks he means _him_ for a moment until his roommate carries on. “Not Umbrella Boy, not Goose Girl, no… You couldn’t even break Teeter Totter Time. _You_ had to go for Little Old Man With A Newspaper.” Gil doesn’t even know what the big deal about the Little Old Man is. Was it worth a lot of money? Had it been meaningful to George in some way? Gil doubts it.

Gil looks desperate at George’s admonishment, regardless. “I’m sorry,” he croaks, looking down at the floor.

“You couldn’t help it, could you, you clumsy oaf?” George sneers with disgust. 

“George, I didn’t mean to, you know I would never —“

“Shut up,” George says, leaning forward to slap Gil across the mouth. Gil falls to the floor, reaching his hand up to touch his stinging lip. “It doesn’t matter what you meant, does it, Gil? It only matters what you did. And what you did was fuck up,” he hisses. George sneers. “I ought to rub your nose in it, like a puppy,” George threatens, fisting a hand in Gil’s curls. Gil lets out a shriek, tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes. George had already made him pick up the broken pieces of the figurine with his hands.

“Please. Please, I’ll do anything. Just talk to me,” Gil says.

“You think you can fix this?”

Gil is on his knees in front of George, looking up at him through teary eyes. 

George inhales slowly, taking a deep breath, his eyes focused on Gil below him. 

“Please, Georgie, let me make it up to you,” Gil begs, snotty like a child. George tightens his fingers in Gil’s hair and yanks him forward, pressing his face into his crotch rather than the broken mess that he had made. 

“Is this what you meant? Is this your idea of solving problems, like a cheap whore?”

“I’ll do anything you want, George, I swear,” Gil promises sweetly, breathing in the scent of George’s corduroy slacks. 

“That’s Mr. St Geegland to you,” George says. His voice is mean.

“Yes, sir,” Gil responds instead, and George’s cock throbs where Gil’s cheek is pressed against it. “Anything, sir,” he says meekly.

“Well go on then,” George encourages, accidentally sliding his hand through Gil’s gray hair a little too tenderly. Gil reaches for George’s zipper with grubby hands and slides his trousers down his hips, revealing his erect cock.

Gil whimpers. He leans forward and takes him into his mouth.

“There you go,” George says approvingly. Gil laps at the tip of his dick, resorting to familiar techniques. He dotes on George, sometimes too cloying and passive. Unimpressed, George just rams his cock down Gil’s throat. 

George knocks Gil’s glasses off his face during an attempt to reach for his hair. 

“I can’t see,” Gil moans.

“Nonsense, Gil!” George balks. “What is it you need to see so badly? You know what you’re doing.” He puts a finger to Gil’s lips to hush him before sliding his dick back in. “Close your eyes,” he commands. Gil obeys, and lets George use his mouth as he pleases.

If Gil had still had his glasses on, he would have seen the screwed up look on George’s face as he came. Instead, it was a surprise to him, and half of George's come spreads over Gil’s tongue and the other half falls over his parted lips and bearded chin. Gil makes a wet sound, and George pulls a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the mess from Gil’s face. 

George tugs his pants up and falls back onto their sofa, his legs feeling like jelly. He lets out a heavy sigh. 

Gil feels around the floor for his glasses, sliding them back on his face, then crawls up onto the sofa next to George. George is still panting heavily. 

Gil makes an attempt to move closer. Begrudgingly, George makes room under his arm for Gil. “You did so good. Daddy’s got some nose candy for you,” he winks, mellowed down for the time being. Gil burrows against him, seeking the warmth of his body.

George and Gil start doing lines at midnight after George procures a baggie of white powder with a smug look on his face. They feed the tiny Bolivian soldiers in their heads with gram after gram of marching powder, George endlessly generous with his stash.

Before they know it, it’s three AM, and Gil is shaking like a leaf, in the middle of coming down. He starts making little whimpers, fussing about his heart rate.

George pulls him close under his arm. “Stop it,” George commands. He takes Gil’s face between his hands and plants a kiss on his mouth. Gil whimpers into his mouth but lets George do whatever he wants.

George kisses him until he has a dazed look on his face. “Better?” he asks, a rare moment of concern.

“I feel weird,” Gil complains.

“That’s just because you’ve been a human Hoover for the last three hours,” George admonishes him.

“George,” he whines, and George smoothes down his hair. Gil tucks his face against George’s neck. 

“Jesus, Gil, you’re okay.” George turns on the television set and flips through the channels until he finds PBS. “You know what would distract you? Doing something with your mouth.”

“I already gave you a blowjob,” Gil whines.

“You could give me another!”

“But my knees —“

“It’s always something with you. But this, but that,” George complains, regardless of the factual accuracy of his statement. “Here.” He gives Gil a pill to calm him down and eventually Gil settles, leaning into George and tucking his whole body against his side. 

George rolls his eyes, but pulls his friend in closer anyway.


End file.
